Age Reversal AU (For Batfam)

[dfordangerous]

[ His father is dead, and he's still reeling from the shock. Alfred and Tim both know he's barely keeping it together, for all his standoffish composure. Years of preparing for this moment--

(steeling himself, to watch his father be laid to rest next to his grandparents)

--have done little to offset the grief. He wouldn't be seen at all if it weren't for his brother; if Tim hadn't coerced him out of his room in the hours following the funeral, hadn't confessed his worries for Cass (retreated, to the attic of all places), Jason (god, Jason, Damian's own cunning little húlí, he'd adored the man), and his father's newest stray, Richard. Dick. His father's Robin.

His Robin, now. As strange as the thought is. But the cowl is his, and so is Robin.

His Robin, who Alfred has informed him is currently making his roost up in the ballroom's chandeliers. Refusing to come down.

Damian, briefly, contemplates leaving him up there in favor of finishing reviewing this case file.

('He'll come down when he gets hungry,' he tells Alfred.

'He's in mourning, Master Damian,' Alfred points out, with all the dry chastisement his stiff upper lip can give.

'I'll get the broom.')

And here he is. He finds himself squinting in irritation up at the boy monkeying around on the fragile, expensive crystal. ]

Richard. [ Prim, clipped tones. Damian hardly raises his voice unless his fuse is blown; usually only when he's locked in a shouting match with Tim or with his father.

He doesn't know Richard that well. The boy is a relatively fresh arrival, and the past few months he's been here have seen Damian on longer missions; international and galactic trips alike. Before Bruce's death, they had maybe spent only a few hours in each other's company, and the boy was clearly not overly fond of him. ]

What are you doing?

Comments

[dfordangerous]

Of course you could.

[ He sounds scandalized at any implication that Dick couldn't. The boy's adaptable, resourceful, and above all, Robin was -- is -- his partner. He doesn't doubt that Dick would eventually flourish, find his place, and be regarded as one of the best. ]

But you don't have to. And you shouldn't have to. You have choices -- better ones. You, Richard, can become anything from where you're standing now. And you will be amazing.

[ And happy. That's what he wants for him, more than anything. The same for Timothy, Cassandra, Jason.

(Be happy. Be fulfilled. And be more obedient when he tells you to do something, you little bastards. That's it, that's all.)

He huffs, hands cupping both sides of the boy's head, thumbs roughly brushing over his temples, brusquely affectionate. Or, in other cases, a reminder of how easily his mitts can hold a squirming boy in place, immune to his fussing.

Not that he ever has, of course. Not that he's done it frequently, before. Never. ]

I miss you, too, brat. God help me, but silence bothers me now.

[ You've ruined him, Richard. ]

[graysondive]

[Dick will most certainly never learn the lesson about fussing. But he doesn't do it now-- at least, unlike ten seconds ago, he's not angrily throwing off any worries or points of contact. He shakes his head, maybe, barely. But then simply bypasses the rest and pushes himself into Damian's torso, buries his face and wraps his arms around him as far as he can reach.]

So stay.

[It's a sour attempt and he knows it's futile, but Dick is determined, and stubborn, and tells himself all the time that maybe if he just tried harder, kept trying, worked smarter, worked harder, been better, then things could've turned out in his favor.

He knows this won't, but he has to try. It's not like he can be this frank with Bruce. He didn't feel particularly amazing.]

All I wanna be is someone who helps people. But Bruce barely trusts me and you won't let me help you anymore.

[Sometimes he thinks about what would happen if Damian was gone for weeks. And if they received bad news. Everyone is more than competent on their own, but-- it scares him.]

[dfordangerous]

[ He does important work. Necessary work. Work that keeps heroes safe. His team's the one that hunts the hunters; they're the ones who act, who track down rogue superhumans before they become a serious threat. No affiliations, no recognition. There's a reason his Blackhawk outfit is blank, no insignia. Nobody but Batman knows they exist; not even the League.

And when things go south, they'll take the fall.

He doesn't want Dick tied to any of that. Not this stupid, tough kid he's wrapped up in his arms; who's growing, has grown, but is still nothing but a twig against him. ]

I'm here every second I can be.

[ He doesn't like being away. Things were different after Jason's death; the Outsiders were both an escape and a punishment. Then Bruce's death brought him back in again, brought them all back. It felt like -- a home.

(His mother would scoff to hear him now.) ]

You're already your own hero, Robin. You don't require anyone's approval or validation -- not even Father's. Do what you think is best, and I will be here to make sure you don't get killed doing it.

[ Because brotherhood. Snarky as it is. ]

[graysondive]

[Every second and it still never feels like it's enough. They all operated in relative secrecy, but sometimes he didn't think the Outsiders' operation was worth it. He was still just scared and worried. And he felt ridiculous for it, and squeezed his grip tighter for the thought, but he still couldn't help it.

But he could be a hero. When Damian said it, he sure as hell believed it. The incredibly dry sarcasm didn't make Dick disbelieve it at all.]

Then don't lose your foot next time, OK? [His voice was bound to be even more muffled with his face till buried in nomex, but he didn't care a lick.]

Just call if you need back up... Even if Bruce gets mad...!

[(No sniffles here. Absolutely none. He definitely was not.)]

[dfordangerous]

[ He scoffs, haughty, and pets the messy head of hair, soothing the (completely imaginary) sniffles. ]

It is but a flesh wound.

[ So completely deadpan. He hasn't even watched the movie, turned his nose up at base comedy films, but it's impossible not to pick up some things after living in a household with Tim, Jason, Cass, and Dick. Especially not when they're all regularly getting scuffed up.

It's a standard reply, at this point. Completely excusable. ]

In the event that I find myself in such dire straits that I need help from a chattering, flippy little pipsqueak, which may, unfortunately, include his band of excitable teenaged hooligans--

[ As if Robin hasn't saved his ass as Batman more times than he can count over the course of their partnership.

His arms give a squeeze, despite the sarcasm. ]

--I will. Even if Father gets mad.